


Adventure

by 2corbies



Category: due South
Genre: Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Same-Sex Marriage, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2corbies/pseuds/2corbies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An invitation to a wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventure

They arrived home in the long twilight of early December. Fraser went into the cabin to start the fire, while Ray took care of the dogs. He unhitched them from the sled one by one, checking for any damage they'd taken from the extended trip, then settled them in their kennels with dinner. He unpacked the sled, rolled up the harness, and stowed it in the back of their large shed before heading inside. Holliday, the lead dog, and her brother Halpern, came inside with him.

The woodstove was blazing, warming the air of the four-room cabin. The lights in the main room were lit, and Ray could see Fraser's silhouette through the kitchen door as he prepared dinner. Everything was as they'd left it: the neatly made bed with its hand-pieced quilts, the bearskin rug in front of the fire, the wood-frame couch and two bentwood rocking chairs. A book of poetry was spread face-down on one arm of the couch; a knit afghan was folded on the other. The wood table, which Fraser had built twenty years ago, was polished and gleaming. The shoe rack beside the door already held Fraser's boots, sitting beside Ray's sheepskin house slippers.

"How are the dogs?" Fraser called out from the kitchen.

Halpern pushed past Ray and into the kitchen, nosing at Fraser's elbow as he stirred the pot. Holliday, always more contained, tossed her head to clear the last of the snow from her ruff, then went to take her place on the rug in front of the fire. Ray hung his parka, snow pants, hat, gloves, scarf, next to Fraser's on the pegs by the door. He sat down at the table and went to work on his boots.

Ray grunted as he pulled a boot off, flexing his aching toes. "Good," he said. "Zoe's paw still seems sore, but I'm sure she'll be fine now that she can rest up for a couple days."

"Probably," Fraser replied. "I suppose it was a long ride back from Tuktoyaktuk."

"Yup," Ray replied, slipping his other foot free and reaching for his slippers.

Fraser came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, Halpern following close at his heels. He'd stripped down to jeans and a flannel shirt, even though it couldn't be more than 50 degrees inside the cabin yet. He walked over to the door and grabbed the bags, bending over to give Ray a brief, heated kiss. "Soup's on," he murmured. "Let me just unpack the laundry and toiletries and we can have a quick dinner." He took their satchels into the bedroom andHalpern joined Holliday on the floor by the woodstove.

Ray grinned. A quick dinner, and then, to bed. They'd been traveling too damn long out in the cold, and he knew they were both looking forward to a warm room, a big bed, and a whole lot of naked time.

After he'd set his boots on the rack by the door, Ray went into the kitchen to check on the soup. He stirred it a couple of times, turned up the heat, and pulled out some bowls. He had just dipped his little finger in to test the temperature when he heard the phone ring. Fraser picked up the phone in the bedroom immediately.

"Kowalski and Fraser residence, Benton Fraser speaking." Fraser wandered out of the bedroom, looking as puzzled as Ray felt. Who would have even known they were back? Then, Fraser's face lit up and he said: "It's Mellie. She just wanted to make sure we got home safe."

Ray seized the kitchen extension. "Hell no," he retorted. "We're dead in the snow, sweetheart, I always told you it would happen one day."

"Dad, stop it." Their oldest foster-daughter sounded amused. "I know you love it out there." Her voice was thin and tinny over three thousand miles of static, but it was wonderful to hear. It had been almost a year since the last time they'd seen her.

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself. How the hell did you know we were getting home today?" Fraser, as usual, had fallen silent once Ray was on the line.

Mellie said, "Jake sent me a text message. Said you'd stopped by Paulatuk last week and were going to run by Tuktoyaktuk before heading home."

Ray shook his head. Text messages. He sometimes felt like a stranger in the twenty-first century. But he took comfort in the fact that Fraser had still barely made it into the twentieth. Ray'd had to talk him into having electricity and plumbing in the cabin, back when they'd built it, and he still wasn't too sure about this email thing.

"How's Jake doing?" Mellie asked. "He didn't say much."

It had been a year since they'd seen Mellie, but even longer since she had seen Jake. Ray and Fraser had fostered him until he was 18, and then he'd moved up to Paulatuk , wanting to live with his own people. He'd made it back home once or twice since then, but Ray and Fraser mostly saw him when they were up that way on patrol.

"He's good," Ray said. "The fishing's going well. He's got a nice little house, and he's seeing a girl named Sunny-- she just moved to town from Tuk. Seems serious. He's happy, I think."

"Good for him," Mellie said. "Do you think he'll be able to make it down for the holidays, this year?"

"He said he'd try, but you know it's hard. There isn't exactly a road from him to us." 200 miles over the tundra from Paulatuk to Inuvik. Jake didn't have the money for air travel, much less for a snowmobile, and he didn't have the gear for a low-tech overland trip. Fraser had tried, in his own way, to let Jake know that they could help him out with the travel. But Jake was his own man and he was having none of it. Honestly, Ray couldn't blame him. Accepting help from your parents was a hard thing once you were an adult. Ray respected Jake's independence, even though he missed not seeing him more. "So how're you doing, kiddo? Will we be seeing you over Christmas Break?"

"Oh, I'm greatness," she said. "Depot lets out in the middle of December-- I thought I'd stick around here for a week, probably try and get a plane up your way on the 20th or so. A lot will depend on travel schedules."

"Whenever you can get here, we'd love to see you. You know that."

"Thanks, Dad. "

"So how's life going otherwise?"

"I'm doing fine. I'll be done at with the academy in the spring, and they're already trying to talk me into staying on as an instructor. On Inuit customs, no less."

"Really?" Ray asked. "What's that about? You're nothing like the first Inuit in the RCMP."

" 'Course not," she said, with a snort. "But they're all out in the field, just like I'm going to be. Seems like none of the other Inuit or First Nations folks who've come through here recently have been interested in city jobs, either."

Ray glanced up at Fraser and noted at the proud smile on his face. "So where are you hoping to get posted?"

"I dunno," she said. "Yukon, maybe; the division in Whitehorse has an open post. But-- I'm thinking about Baffin Island, actually. I remember the trip we took to Alert when Jake and I were kids. I don't think I'd want to move quite that far north, but maybe Iqaluit. It's beautiful up there when the Lights are out, and there aren't many cadets with the skills they need. "

"I'll bet," Ray agreed. "Can't be many RCMP applicants who can track caribou, read Inukitut, and live north of the arctic circle without any modern technology."

Fraser made a hushing gesture at him. Ray knew that Mellie's unique skill set was sometimes a difficult subject for them. She'd been placed in foster care when she was nine, after a house fire had killed her parents. They h ad been Inuit traditionalists, living in Tuktoyaktuk , hunting their own food and spending most of their year out on the land. Mellie had received the benefit of their considerable knowledge about arctic life. So, when she was placed with an Inuit family in downtown Inuvik, she'd just run away, back into the wilderness she knew best. Fraser was the one they sent to track her down.

Ray hadn't been with Fraser when he went out after her. Their three boys needed to be looked after. But he heard about it later- from Mellie, not from Fraser, who was always reluctant to discuss his own successes.

Fraser had found her huddling in a small but sturdy igloo with her father's rifle and the remains of a caribou she'd killed and butchered. Her parka was bloody and her face streaked with tears, but she was healthy and safe despite her long stay in the snow. And she was adamant in her refusal to return to her foster home in town.

And so Fraser, rather than dragging a kid home who had already proved she was willing and able to disappear, just moved into her igloo. He stayed with her for three days, helping her hunt, tend her fire, dress her game, heat her water. After the first day, he didn't say anything about taking her back, just listened to her stories of her parents, and told some stories of his own. Stories about his dad, aboutInnusiq and Quinn, the places he'd lived and the things he'd seen-- in the territories and in Chicago. They traded Inuit stories, and it turned out he even knew a few she didn't. And he told her about Ray, their little cabin an hour outside of town, and the three kids they were fostering.

On the third day, she'd asked if she could come to live with them. Fraser, who wouldn't promise what he couldn't deliver, not even to bring a little girl in from the cold, just said, "I can certainly ask."

Because Fraser got it. He understood what it was like to loose everything you ever knew. He knew what it was like to be left with nothing but arctic snowfields in your soul.

So Mellie had come and she had stayed. Of the six kids they'd fostered over the years, Mellie and Jake were the only ones who'd stayed with them throughout. Harry, the first, left when he was eight, after his mother had finished out her thirty-month sentence for drugs and another six months of rehab. Warren joined them when he was 7 and left when he was 11, when his grandmother agreed to take him in. The little girls, Kate and Lane, came later-- babies when they arrived, toddlers when they left. They'd been sent back to their real families with hardly any memory of the foster parents who'd cared for them for years.

Jake came to stay when he was five, Mellie a year later, and both had stayed until they were out of school. Ray and Fraser would have adopted them both, but Jake's parents didn't want to surrender their rights, and Mellie didn't want to surrender her memories. She loved them but, when she was a teenager, she never lost the chance to remind them that they weren't her real parents.

Then, after getting her criminal justice degree from the University down in Yellowknife, she had joined the RCMP. If that wasn't enough to make Fraser proud, she'd called and told them: "I didn't want to take your names, before, because I didn't think it'd be fair. I mean--everybody knows who you guys are. It wouldn't be right for them to let me in just because of you."

Ray didn't think he'd ever seen Fraser closer to tears.

So, once she started at Depot, she changed her name formally. When she graduated in the spring, she would be Constable Melisande Okpik Kowalski-Fraser. It was a mouthful, but they all knew that the bottom line was another Fraser continuing the family tradition. Fraser was going to bust the buttons on his Serge at her graduation, Ray just knew it.

But now, Mellie said, "Yup, and I damn well want to use those skills to do my job, not just teach other people to do it."

"It's important to remember, though," Fraser spoke up for the first time in several minutes, "That those skills will die out if no one teaches them. They said my father was the last of a dying breed-- we've proved them wrong twice now. I'd hate to see it be true one day."

"Well, I'd still rather do it the way you did," she said. "Don't worry. I'll find some fledgling Mountie and take 'em under my wing."

Ray looked up at Fraser again, but found him distracted by looking at something out the window. "What's up, Ben?" he asked, then said, "Mellie, hold on a sec," into the phone. The dogs in their kennels had started barking, andHolliday and Halpern jumped up from the rug in front of the fire.

" 'K. What's going on?"

"I hear a truck, coming up the road," Fraser said, peering off into the distance. Ray couldn't hear anything but the dogs, but he trusted Fraser's senses. Fraser's shoulders were tense-- even in the wilds of the Northwest Territories, they had a few enemies.

But the dogs didn't seem concerned, just excited. Halpern was wagging his tail at the door, and Holliday had jumped up to look out the window next to Fraser. She woofed once and licked his face. "Oh, really?" Fraser asked, and then the vehicle came into view. Fraser smiled. "It's Miles Dawson. He must be bringing the mail."

"Oh, OK," Mellie said, over the line. "Well, then how about I let you guys go? I can check back in tomorrow. Or, better yet, drop me an email and tell me about what you did on patrol. You should let people know that you're back-- update the blog or something."

"Yeah, right," Ray said. Mellie knew them better than that. "But yeah, we'd better go. We'll be in touch, kiddo. Take care."

"You too. Love you both," and she hung up before they could respond.

Fraser set the phone headset down and pulled Ray into a fierce hug, finishing it with a kiss. "What was that for?" Ray asked, as Fraser broke away.

Fraser didn't respond, just went to the door and opened it to usher in a surprised Postmaster. "Mr. Dawson, it's good to see you," he said. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" He closed the door quickly behind them, shutting out the bitter cold.

Halpern quickly moved to rub up against Dawson's leg, bumping his head against Dawson's elbow demandingly. "Hi boy, just a second," Dawson said, trying to maneuver the large postal bin in his hands. Ray stepped forward to take it. "Thanks," said Dawson, and dropped a hand to the dog's head. "And no, thank you Sergeant, I can't stay. I just came to drop off your mail. And-- some presents." He dug into a pocket and pulled out a couple of round, white bones, which he tossed to the dogs. Holliday caught hers neatly and lolled her tongue in gratitude, and Halpern took his treat back to the rug in front of the fire.

Ray emptied the mail bin onto their table and said, "Thanks a lot for this. But how did you know we were getting back, today?" He handed the bin back to Dawson.

Dawson, who had to be even older than they were-- close to seventy, unless Ray missed his guess-- looked at him oddly. "Horrocks, the postmaster up in Aklavik emailed me a couple days back. Gave me your itinerary," he said.

Ray shook his head. Even the mailman had email, these days.

"Well, however you found out," Fraser said, casting a chiding look at Ray out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you kindly for bringing the mail out to us. You've spared us the trip into town, tomorrow."

"Think nothing of it, Sergeant," Dawson said. "Least I could do, considering. You boys deserve a rest." He looked them up and down, clearly taking in their trail clothes, their still-disheveled appearance. "And I'll leave you to it." He put his hat on and turned back towards the door.

Ray opened it for him, as Fraser said, "Have a safe trip back to town, in that case. I'm sure we'll see you later in the week," as Dawson stepped out into the night.

"I'll see you then," Dawson called from the door of his jeep. "You boys take care." He turned the jeep on and drove off into the darkness.

Ray sat down at the table and started sorting through the mail. As usual, it was mostly bills, catalogs and junk mailings. Some things never changed. But one envelope. . . Ray held it up and squinted at the return address.

Fraser had stepped into the kitchen to check on their dinner. "The stew is hot," he said, coming back into the main room with his hands full of utensils. "We can eat whenever you like." He set the table, then took his own chair across from Ray's.

Ray had pulled his glasses on and was studying the heavy cream-colored envelope, its neatly hand-calligraphied address and label, the embossed seal and the carefully positioned row of stamps.

"Is that from Ray Vecchio?" Fraser asked.

Ray nodded. "Looks like. Bout damn time, if you ask me," he said, and tore the envelope open. He pulled out the thick, gilt-edged cardstock, read it, and held it out to Fraser.

"A wedding invitation," Fraser said, taking it from Ray's hand and reading it over. "The twenty-fifth of March." He set it back down on the table. "I'll put in for the time off for us when I go back into the detachment on Monday." A faint smile played over the corners of his mouth. "I can almost guarantee it will be approved."

Ray snorted. After his last promotion, Fraser was technically the ranking officer in Inuvik. His junior officer did all the managerial work; Fraser had absolutely refused to get stuck behind a desk. He'd made fieldwork a condition of accepting promotion, and Benton Fraser, theRCMPs most decorated and celebrated veteran, could actually get away with that. Just like he could get away with asking for Ray to be hired on as a "Civilian Aide."

"Make it two weeks, if you can," Ray said. "Let's eat." And he went and served up the soup.

Over dinner, Ray asked, "How long has RJ been with Ethan, anyway?"

Fraser looked up at him, frowning. "Five years? They met in college, I think," he said.

"I guess so." It was strange to think of. In Ray's mind, Frannie's oldest son was still the angsty teenager he'd been during his visit with them. Ray Vecchio Junior had spent the summer he was thirteen in Inuvik with Ray and Fraser; Mellie and Jake were about the same age. RJ had been driving Frannie crazy with his secrets and his lies and his sullen withdrawal, but he had nothing on a couple of traumatized Inuit kids being raised by two queer white guys in the most northern town that you could reach by road. Fraser and Ray had taken everything RJ could throw at them with complete equanimity and lack of surprise, until he stopped trying to shock them.

Once his mood brightened, Mellie and Jake had really taken him under their wing. They ran around town like wild dogs for a few days, then took off to go camping. Ray had been worried, but Fraser had reassured him and, he had to admit, Mellie was more than up to the task of keeping them all on track. And Jake was no slouch, either. So Fraser made sure they had a cell phone to call in if there was any trouble, and released them into the wild with nary a concern.

Ray hardly slept the whole week they were gone, he was so on edge. He had his own theories about why Frannie had sent the kid to them, and he didn't think it had anything to do with camping.

He hadn't wanted to say anything about his suspicions. But Fraser, who'd practically made a career out of not noticing that sort of thing, asked, "Ray, do you think Ray Junior is. . . "

Fraser still had trouble saying the words back then. But Ray had known what he was asking and said, "Yeah. I think he is. That would explain a lot."

Fraser had still seemed puzzled. "Yes, it would. But. . . he can't have said anything about it to Francesca or she would have told us. And if he hasn't mentioned it, we certainly can't bring it up. I'm not sure what Francesca's expectations of this visit could be." He had been frowning.

Ray just shrugged. "Maybe she hasn't got any," he had suggested. "Maybe she just wants us to be, I dunno, role models or something. And maybe she just wants to get him out of the States. All this culture war shit is really heating up, with the election and all. At least, that's what I hear." It'd be a hell of a time to be a queer kid in Chicago, was what he heard, actually.

Fraser, of course, had stuck on the first thing Ray had said. "Role models," he repeated. "Oh, dear."

Ray thought RJ had needed friends more than role models, actually. When Mellie, Jake and RJ came trudging back up the road, RJ was like a totally different person. A perpetual smile split his thin, Italian face and his lanky body had settled into a comfortable grace. He called his mother that night-- the first time he'd done so without Ray and Fraser having to nag him-- and told her all about his trip. "And Mellie taught me to build a fire, and Jake and I shot a caribou and dressed it and then we cooked it for dinner. Then, the next day, we tracked the herd up the river. . ." He hardly gave his mother the chance to respond.

Of course, she had an earful for Ray and Fraser once he got off the phone. It started with: "What the hell were you thinking!" and concluded in, "I mean, he could have been eaten by a polar bear!"

Fraser patiently explained that they were much too far south for polar bears this time of year, and tactfully omitted mention of the grizzly bears, whose prints were a common sight in the woods around their home. Fifteen years after Frannie had given up her hopes for Fraser, he still had the ability to distract her with a scientific tangent skillfully inserted into a conversation. Ray marvelled at it.

RJ was with them for three more weeks, but he spent almost none of it at home. Ray was working at the detachment with Fraser by then. Every day the kids rode with them into town, and caught a ride back long after Ray and Fraser had settled in for the night. They went to the Aboriginal Day festival together, and then RJ and Jake stayed to protest at the Inuvik Petroleum Show while Mellie came home to post pictures online. A week later, it was the Northern Arts Festival, and they were again all out of the house nearly every day. They only came back late at night, when the last of the bands, fueled by the midnight sun, had finished playing. RJ , who hadn't bothered to tell Ray or Fraser that he played guitar, even joined in a couple of jam sessions with one of the bands, towards the end of the week.

Whatever Frannie had intended, RJ's visit seemed to serve its purpose. By the time he left, he had matured considerably, come out of his shell, and was worlds freer and easier in his own skin. Six months later, when he sent Ray and Fraser an email telling them about the boy he was dating, they hadn't been surprised in the slightest.

Picking at his stew, Ray examined the invitation again. He looked over its enclosed RSVP cards with available menu options. Steak, chickenparm , fish, or some veggie thing. "This sounds like it's going to be a real high-class party," he commented. "Give you an excuse to break out your Serge before Mellie's graduation." He hardly ever saw Fraser in uniform anymore; he only wore it when he was going into the detachment office, in Inuvik and then, he wore the blue one.

Fraser grimaced. "I can't help but wonder if it will even fit anymore."

Ray scoffed. "What, have you grown out of your other clothes? I know for a fact that you haven't bought a new pair of pants since 2019."

"Oh, it's been longer than that since I've worn the Serge, Ray," Fraser said. "At least five years, not since. . ." and he broke off.

Ray remembered that the last time Fraser had worn his dress uniform had been at Buck Frobisher's funeral. He'd been one of the pallbearers, and one of the only people left who could honestly say he'd known Frobisher well. Fraser was staring down at his hands, the swollen knuckles and the twisted veins, the wrinkling skin of the palms. Ray suddenly realized that they were older now than Frobisher had been, when Ray first met him. He reached out and took Fraser's hand.

"Of course it will fit," he said. "You take good care of yourself." It was mostly true. It had been years since Fraser had done anything stupid, like walking into a firefight unarmed. And Fraser worked out hard; he had to, to fight off his body's natural tendency towards plumpness. He had more muscle on him now than he had thirty years ago. Ray, on the other hand, struggled to keep the weight on. He had to buy new jeans every couple of years, and his ass got skinnier every time.

"Shit," he suddenly realized. "I'm gonna have to buy a suit."

That broke the mood. Fraser was grinning at him, clearly glad to get his own back. "Oh, I'm certain we can find something that will fit you," he said.

"Shit," Ray said again. "I don't even remember what happened to any of my old suits." He reclaimed his hand and fidgeted with the invitation, tearing the envelope into small pieces. He had worn black slacks and a grey turtleneck sweater to Buck's memorial. Same outfit he'd worn to every semi-formal event in the last twenty years, without anyone batting an eye. It wasn't like there was a tuxedo in every closet in the Northern Areas. Somehow, he doubted he could get away with that at a high-class wedding in Toronto.

He squinted at the gold leaf edging on the RSVP card. "I hate these things," he confessed. "Tuxes, fancy china, champagne. All the women competing to show off how much money they spent on their dress or their jewelry. At least there won't be bridesmaids at this one."

Fraser said, "I can't say that I've ever been to an event of this type."

"Really?" Ray was amazed. It was probably true, he realized. Certainly, in the years they'd been together they had been to weddings. But those had mostly been people their own age, who had grown out of the need for this sort of spectacle. Before that-- Fraser had spent his twenties and thirties in near complete isolation, deep in the wilderness of the frozen north. Not many white weddings going on there. "You know," he said, thoughtfully. "I guess most of them that I went to were just because of Stella. Her friends from that private high school she went to, or from the SA's office. Lawyers and lawyers' wives mostly. None of my friends did that sort of thing, either, I guess."

Fraser didn't seem reassured, though. He just looked uncertain, and uncomfortable. Finally, he asked, "Do you ever regret that we didn't. . . have a real wedding?"

Ray remembered that day in early spring, back in 2005 when, after living together for seven years, they'd stood in the front room of the McKenzie Hotel and said their vows. Fraser's boss and one of Ray's pool buddies had been their witnesses, because none of their friends or family (approved) could make it. The UU minister they'd brought in from Yellowknife, because the local clergy wouldn't do it. The dirty looks they got from people on the street. But mostly he remembered the little boy, Harry Kimet, that Child and Family Services had told them they had a chance at getting custody of, if they were married.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, softly. "It was plenty real. Ten times as real as. . ." he stopped, realizing what he was about to say, and then forced himself to continue. "Not that me and Stella weren't real, but. . . So we had this wedding, right? Only we were kids and we didn't know what the hell we were doing. We thought the wedding would make us married, and it didn't. We were married, but it happened years later, and it was over a long time before either of us were ready to call it quits. And even though we were married, we were never really family.

"You and me, though," he went on, smiling. "We got married some time back in 1998, out there on the snowfields in a tent, looking for a dead guy's hand. The wedding was just a formality. We didn't need a wedding to be a family. I think that's why our family worked."

Fraser watched him with a queer expression. He scrubbed his eyebrow with a knuckle, the old nervous gesture he hardly used anymore, and he blinked his eyes rapidly. He stretched out across the table and caught Ray's reaching-out hand, squeezed it, and looked into Ray's eyes. "Let's go to bed," he said.

Ray grinned. " 'Bout damn time," he said, dropping his spoon into the empty soup bowl and letting Fraser haul him to his feet.

They only lit one lamp in the bedroom, undressing in the dim circle of light. Ray stripped quickly, then watched Fraser. Fraser unbuttoned his two layers of flannel shirts and slipped them off of his shoulders, then stripped off his jeans, so that he was in just his long underwear and his undershirt. He started to take off his long johns, then it turned into a stretch-- it was the first time Fraser'd had room to stretch out, without being completely bundled up, in weeks. Ray watched the play of Fraser's muscles under his faded ivory skin with a smile on his face.

Fraser had changed little over the years. He was still strong and handsome, though his edges had been rounded slightly by age. He had broad shoulders and a smooth chest that was thick with muscle. And if his abs were a little less toned, if his waist was a little less narrow, if the perfect curve of his ass had, sadly, diminished a bit since he was thirty-five, well, those changes were more than compensated by the smile lines at the corners of his mouth, the twinkle in his eye, and the elegant silver that streaked his hair.

Time and familiarity made lovers more beautiful. Fraser's muscular arms, square hands, heavy genitals, had been Ray's pleasure and his home for so long. It was like the lines of Fraser's body were inscribed into Ray's skin, like they were words written into each other's souls.

They slid together under the soft quilts and furs, bodies fitting together like finely tuned gears. Ray's hand on Fraser's hip, Fraser's arms around Ray's shoulders. They kissed with closed lips, a gentle, slow tease which quickly gained speed. Enclosed in Fraser's arms, Ray could feel himself swelling, hardening. His hips thrust forward, bringing his half-hard penis into contact with Fraser's, already fully erect. Fraser's lips parted in a gasp, and Ray slipped his tongue inside that familiar wide mouth.  
Fraser hummed happily against his lips and Ray laughed into the kiss. "Jeeze, Ben, I'd think you missed this or something."

"Or something," Fraser replied, breathlessly. He was rocking his hips slowly into Ray's.

Truth be told, they'd both missed it. Almost a month out on patrol, most of it spent on a dogsled or in a tiny little arctic tent. Always close, huddling together for warmth and comfort. They talked and bickered just to hear the sounds of oneanother's voices; their real communication was wordless. They found perfect intimacy under grueling adversity, collapsing exhausted into each other's arms at night, their shared bedroll the only home they needed.

For all their intimacy, they almost never made love on the trail, anymore. Too little energy, too little time, too little space in their small tent. It had been one thing when they were young, inexperienced and desperate for each other. They'd fucked everywhere in those days, whenever they had enough privacy for courtesy. Those first few years, it was like they were trying to make up for all the opportunities they'd missed in Chicago, when they had been trying so hard to play by the rules.

They'd finished making up for lost time decades ago. And, while the passion had not faded over the years, Ray had learned the value of patience and a big, soft bed.

Ray felt Fraser's hand on the side of his face, holding him still for a harder kiss. Fraser's tongue moved against Ray's like the slide of their cocks: wet, firm and demanding. It was always Fraser who lost patience first, something that had surprised Ray in the beginning. But it was as if Fraser, who had waited all his life for this, could only wait so long once he had it in his hands. Ray had had Stella, after all. He'd gotten used to having, even if the loosing had almost killed him. Ben. . . Ben never had anybody before Ray. Before Ray, he'd just wanted, longed, and done without. It had scarred him in ways that hurt Ray to think about, even now.

So Ray liked giving Fraser what he needed. He moved closer until he could get both of them into his hand together. Fraser's breath shuddered against Ray's mouth, and his cock shuddered in Ray's grasp, anointing Ray's fingers with a few small drops of fluid. Fraser loved this, loved feeling Ray rubbing hard against him. He'd never said it in so many words-- he never said anything much about sex, still-- but Ray knew. When Ray took them both in hand, Fraser would always go very still and whisper, "Yes, yes, please," into his ear, like it was perfect, like it was just what he wanted. And his face would twist up and he would look absolutely undone, every fucking time, like he'd never imagined it could be so good.

Gently, Ray started stroking; Fraser was leaking against him, the head of his cock soft and moist, slipping out from behind his moving foreskin. Ray twisted his hips to rub them together, squeezing his palm over the heads of their joined cocks, holding them so Fraser could feel him pressing right up against the sensitive spot under the crown. Fraser groaned and thrust, pushing hard against Ray's hand, Ray's dick.

"Yeah," Ray said, "Yeah, that's it." He watched Fraser's face, Fraser's eyes screwed up tight, desperate, all his precious control gone. God he was lovely. All these years, and the touch of Ray's hand still made him come apart. It was awesome, humbling, how much Fraser loved him.

Ray captured Fraser's mouth in his, licked and sucked at Fraser's lips until they were both gasping. Ray's hand, moving faster, pressed them together rhythmically. The smooth skin of Fraser's cock was stretched tight around his swollen length, the soft skin at the tip wet like the tip of his tongue. His balls were throbbing, plump and tight where Ray's fingers caught them on each tight downward stroke. And then Fraser rocked his hips, hard, up into Ray's clenched fist and Fraser was coming, taking a sharp, broken breath through flared nostrils.

Ray could feel Fraser's orgasm right up against his own cock, and an answering spasm reverberated through Ray's body. Ray wasn't ready to come, yet, so he had the luxury of watching. He watched Fraser avidly, watched his contorted face and the shadows of his eyelashes like moth's wings against his pink, windburned cheeks. Watched the flexing lines at the corners of his mouth, which grew deeper with every passing year. Watched his lips, red and wet from kissing, and the soft supple tongue that licked across them as Fraser's face went slack. Ray kissed the crows-feet at his temples and held him close, easing him through the aftershocks.

"God, Ray," Fraser whispered, hoarsely, against his shoulder, head bent as if in prayer. "God."

Ray cradled Fraser close in his arms, running gentle hands over the muscles of Fraser's back. Ray was still hard and turned on, still waiting for it. But he didn't mind waiting, didn't mind feeling Fraser all warm and loose and satisfied in his arms. He liked the way Fraser melted against him, draping over his hard, aroused body and surrounding him. He liked the sated sweat on Fraser's skin, liked licking the satisfaction on his lips, kissing the sex-flush on his cheeks. He knew Fraser wouldn't leave him hanging.

Fraser was touching Ray's face again, stroking his cheek and his mouth and kissing him softly. Ray returned his lazy kisses with heat and Fraser pulled back, smiling. Fraser grasped Ray's wrist and pulled Ray's come-covered hand up to his mouth. With slow, gentle swipes of his tongue, he cleaned his semen off of Ray's skin before pulling Ray's fingers into his mouth to suck.

"Jesus," Ray breathed. Fraser's tongue teased the knuckles and the space around his fingernails, rubbing at the pads of his fingers and drawing them into his throat. It was all there in that mouth: the hot, wet suction against Ray's fingers like the memory of Fraser sucking his cock, like the soft slick welcome of Fraser's ass when Ray fucked him. Their history was recorded in the union of their bodies, in the press of mouth and hand and groin.

Ray's fingers slipped out of Fraser's mouth with a little pop and Fraser said, "Do you, ah. . ." And he licked his lips, glancing down towards the blankets.

Ray grinned, breathless. "Nah, I want you up here," he said, kissing Fraser again.

"OK," he felt the puff of Fraser's breath against his mouth and then Fraser's big, hard hand was closing around his cock. It sent a shock of renewed arousal shooting through him, wrenching a cry from his throat. God, he was close. Fraser jacked him steadily, hand firm and constant. The huge, unmovable weight of Fraser's body against his was overwhelming. Every point of contact was another point of pleasure, terrifying and almost too much-- still not enough.

So Ray leaned closer, pressed them tight together. He trapped Fraser's hand between them so that it was barely moving, and Ray just pushed up into the circle of Fraser's hand. The slide of Fraser's chest against his, the muscles of his pecs moving, provided more delicious friction. He pushed his mouth up into Fraser's, too little coordination to call it a kiss, just needing to feel Fraser's lips against his. Then Fraser did this thing with his thumb over the top of Ray's cock and that was it, all the pleasure that had been burning in his skin, his lips, his hands, suddenly condensed on that one spot and he was coming. Every muscle in his body convulsed with the power of it, but Fraser was right there, holding him, holding him down, holding him together. He arched, crying out and straining against Fraser's grip, and flooded Fraser's hand with hot semen.

After, they rested in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling beams overhead. Fraser was a comforting weight against Ray's side, arm thrown over his chest in a gesture that was equal parts protection and possession. Fraser's breathing was even, but not deep enough for sleep. Ray squeezed his shoulder and Fraser settled closer against him, sliding wetly through the sweat and semen on their skin.

"Twenty-five years. Jesus." Ray said, out of the blue.

Fraser understood, though. "I know," he said. "It doesn't seem like twenty-five years at all."

"Yeah, seems like a fucking eternity," Ray said, felt Fraser's breath move against his shoulder in a silent laugh. Ray smiled. "It's not nearly long enough."

"Not nearly." Fraser agreed. He sighed. "I feel old. Ray Vecchio Jr, getting married. I knew, of course, knew that he'd grow up, have a family of his own. Just like our own children will. But I still find myself. . . unprepared."

Ray nodded. He got it. Frannie's oldest son had been born the same year they moved north, on that amazing adventure to find the Franklin expedition. They'd watched him grow up in bits and pieces, during their visits to Chicago, a couple of visits theVecchio clan had made to Inuvik , and the summer he'd come to stay. They'd had so many kids over the years, in and out of the house, for a short time or a long time, but they'd loved them all. RJ was one of them, even if they hadn't fostered him. Now here he was, getting married. First of their kids to do it. Kinda brought tears to Ray's eyes.

"He has no idea what he's getting into," Ray said.

"Indeed," Fraser murmured, voice muzzy with sleep. "It's the adventure of a lifetime."

Ray smiled and held him close. He drifted into sleep in the arms of his partner, and dreamed of a long journey over cold snow, days and nights made warm by the company he kept.

_the end_


End file.
